Gemotions

The bustling newsroom felt suddenly hostile, the familiar cacophony now a symphony of unspoken judgments. Mark kept glancing at the empty desk next to his, formerly occupied by the seasoned journalist, Mr. Evans. The silence from him was a deafening roar.

He ran his hand through his hair, his mind racing. Had he inadvertently stumbled upon something he shouldn't have? He scanned the headlines, looking for a clue, a connection. He felt a throbbing headache develop.

The glare of the computer screen seemed to intensify, reflecting back his own worried expression. He avoided the gaze of his colleagues, certain they knew something he didn't. He avoided the windows, fearful of what he might see.